


And Sore Must be the Storm

by DerpyMcButtface



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: F/M, Gen, Miscarriage, warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-02
Updated: 2013-09-02
Packaged: 2017-12-25 09:41:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/951585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DerpyMcButtface/pseuds/DerpyMcButtface
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is about miscarriage, in which Sasha and Aleksis lose their baby before it's even born. </p><p>They’re supposed to be tough. They’re supposed to be powerful, bold, invincible, aggressive. They’re not supposed to be sitting there in the medical bay, watching helplessly as more and more blood gushes out from between her legs and their baby is gone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And Sore Must be the Storm

_March 15, 2019_

It was a routine checkup. All personnel at the Vladivostok Shatterdome had to go through the mandatory physicals, but it was particularly important for Jaeger pilots, whose successes were dependent on their bodily strength, and who were exposed to radiation on an almost-daily basis.   
  
After a long day, it wasn’t unpleasant to sit on a cot, not having to think or do anything besides occasionally holding out an arm. Sasha didn’t understand much of the medical jargon thrown around, and the sole doctor and his team of overworked nurses, overwhelmed by the sheer number of grumbling patients and operating on only slightly more sleep than the Jaeger technicians after an attack, never bothered to explain unless something was wrong. That was fine with her- no news was good news. No news meant everything was all right. Urine test, okay. Blood test- two tubes, please. Stay still for the stethoscope- inhale, thank you, exhale, now inhale deeply… Someone dropped the specimen jar; can we have another urine test?   
  
“Lieutenant Kaidonovsky. Vitamin D deficiency,” the nurse read out, pushing a yellow bottle of large oval pills at her. “One pill everyday. Don’t bother going outside; there won’t be sun for another three months-“  
  
A doctor, his eyes bloodshot and his remaining hair frazzled, bustled over like an oversized wind-up toy. “No. No Vitamin D. No conclusive evidence that we even have the right threshold-“ He seized the nurse’s arm a little bit too hard.   
  
“Sir, it’s protocol,” the woman explained as if trying to calm down a wounded animal. “We have to prescribe Vitamin D for anyone with-“   
  
“Whatever, then!” he snorted, staring off somewhere behind her, and dropping the nurse’s arm. “Protocol! Give her the pills! If that’s what protocol says-” The old man scratched his head and looked at Sasha hazily. “Protocol- No! No! No cyst removal during physicals! No! Schedule a Minor Surgery appointment-“ he hollered, and took off again.   
  
“And you’re a bit low on iron- not anemic, but it wouldn’t hurt to bring your hemocrit up a little bit. Here are some iron pills… Sorry about that. Dr. Lomonosov and Dr. Mikhalkov have been down for the last few days so it’s been really busy,” the nurse said, in way of apology. “Heard it was that norovirus going around…”  
  
Sasha only nodded, her painted mouth turning down at one corner in distaste. She honestly wasn’t in the mood to care about the physicians’ respective ailments, and wasn’t feeling up for any small talk. Her silence dampened the smile on the nurse’s face, and she went back to leafing through her files for the results of last week’s lab tests. That was fine. She wasn’t here to make friends around the Shatterdome, and Sasha just wanted to get on with her life- let the medicine people take care of the medicine. Her job was to get back to the simulator and prepare for-  
  
“Oh, congratulations! I thought I’d have heard- my sister Lena is on the tech support crew for the Cherno Alpha and she tells me everything, but I’m happy for you-“  
  
“Huh?” The soldier looked at the nurse in incomprehension. “…About my Vitamin D deficiency?”  
  
“-And I know this is a tough time, but it’s great to have something good finally happen-“  
  
Sasha made a blunt gesture, silencing the other woman. “Stop babbling,” she barked. “Why are you congratulating me.”  
  
The nurse looked at her, clearly puzzled. “So you don’t know you’re pregnant?”  
  


* * *

  
It’s six in the evening. She’s supposed to be in the sparring rooms with some trainees, but to hell with them- she sends off a text rescheduling their session for Saturday. Her mind is on one thing alone, so she makes a beeline towards where the Jaegers are, seeking out Cherno Alpha.  
  
Her predictions are right. Up near the entrance of the Conn-Pod, she spots the bulky silhouette of her husband speaking with two technicians. She slams her hand against the elevator button. The ride up seems to take forever- she fidgets, twisting her coat in her hands, and when she exits to their level, inhales deeply, and stomps to get his attention.   
  
“Aleksis! Aleksis, husband, get your ass over here!” she shouts, motioning to the space in front of her. “Now! It’s important!”   
  
One of the technicians is trying to hide a snicker, but she’s too busy to care. Aleksis’s tall figure strides over to her. He’s so big he seems that he can barely fit on the catwalk, and she half-expects the metal to creak under his feet. A warm feeling bubbles up when she sees his familiar form, his craggy face- her bear, her partner, her husband. He looks worried when he sees her so on edge, but his brow clears at the elation on her face. Sasha pulls his hands onto her waist, and runs a finger just along his cheek, enough to get him to bend down enough so that she can grab his beard and say to his face, “Aleksis, I’m pregnant.”   
  
They said it was impossible. They said it was psychological, just drift hangover, ghost drifting, or any other technical or colloquial term. But how would the scientists know? They’ve never sunk through years of shared memories- actually, more than shared memories, in the mind, soul, presence of another person, not just with them but being them. Never felt their minds in tune, their mind, singular, not plural.   
  
She knows those scientists are wrong. She can feel what Aleksis is feeling right now. She can feel his fear, terror of the unknown at the word ‘pregnant,’ followed by slow realization and suddenly, a burst of joy so strong it makes her dizzy.   
  
He says nothing, only drops his bag of gear, and before she can blink, she’s wrapped up in his arms, buried against his chest, enveloped in folds of cloth and muscle. He’s so warm and solid, and she can smell soap and shaving cream. She’s hanging onto him, afloat in their shared happiness. They don’t need to say anything. They’ve Drifted together enough to know how to say ‘love’ without words.   
  


* * *

  
Later that evening, when she comes out of the shower, he turns around from the sink and seizes her around the waist, pulling their bodies close. His tangles of chest hair scratch against her back; she turns her head to peer at him and laugh.   
  
“Not in the bathroom, Aleksis,” Sasha scolds him playfully, reaching a hand up to pat his bearded chin away. But he isn’t deterred, and hugs her even closer, running his rough hands up and down her sides, resting them over her stomach as if trying to feel their unborn child. Her head fits right under his chin, and feeling the steady expanding and contracting of his enormous ribcage, she sighs contentedly and smiles.  
  
They had been over this, long before they were married. As a Mark I, the Cherno Alpha’s radiation shielding had been installed after the Jaeger was built, instead of being integrated into the system. The shielding was adequate, but not as good as later models. The pilots wouldn’t die from radiation poisoning, but there would still be consequences. Higher rates of cancer later in life. Slight nausea, on occasion. Infertility. Nothing they were going to worry about, with their realistic expectations of pilot lifespans.  
  
Before, it had never concerned either of them. When the recruiter asked if she was aware that she might never have children, young Sasha had just shrugged. Whatever. That’s fine. There wasn’t anyone to have a child with anyway, and she didn’t fancy being responsible for a little screaming animal. Meanwhile, Aleksis had never even considered the warning. It was something that he never thought was relevant to himself.  
  
But after coming to each other, after eating, sleeping, living together, relinquishing every last secret and shame, hope and dream, sometimes while Drifting they felt it, a stray bittersweet little eddy at the edge of the neural handshake. “What if.” “Imagine if.” “Wouldn’t it be kind of cool if.” “I wish.” “I know it can never, could never, be, but…”   
  
They had a mutual agreement to ignore it. There were much more important things, things that actually mattered.  
  
So now, presented with this new turn of events, they’re somewhat taken off-balance in the reality of their situation.   
  
“How will we fight?” she wonders. “It’s not like we can send a letter to the Breach, say ‘hello, can you not attack our area for nine months please.’” Sasha reaches for a cigarette from her pocket out of habit, but Aleksis snatches it out of her hand before she realizes what she’s doing.   
  
“The world needs every Jaeger,” he adds, his dark brows furrowing in thought. They think about the same thing: there’s no such thing as a pause button for Kaiju. They’ve been coming slightly more frequently: just this year there have been three attacks worldwide, with at least one more predicted, and there’s no guarantee that the Cherno Alpha won’t be called into action at an inconvenient time. It’s as if they can’t stop fighting- they can’t continue on without throwing punches, taking on the enemy. “Sasha, we both know we might have to terminate.” His voice is no more than a quiet rumble, barely audible even in the bathroom. His large hands close over hers, and he exhales deeply, his breath rolling across her wet hair. “But before we do anything, let’s think on it for a bit, Sasha. We can- we can talk to the General, to people in charge. Remember last year when Angel from the Diablo Intercept team injured his leg and had to leave for three months? It was not the end of the world then-“  
  
“So you’re saying we should break my arm as an excuse?”  
  
“No, I mean that maybe there’s a way to work around this. We think first, we think of some ideas, and then we ask the general. If nothing works, then we can…”  
  
Her heart thuds unhappily in her chest, and behind her, she can feel her husband’s heartrate speeding up as well. “Aleksis, it’s like we got a chance we thought we’d never have, and we’re just throwing it away…”  
  
“I don’t want to have to,” he admits, as if confessing a weakness.   
  
“But I understand why, if we have to.” She turns around in his arms to face him, and presses her forehead against his scratchy beard. They don’t need to say it aloud- they both know that if necessary, they will do what they need to do. Their lives were forfeit the moment they became pilots, in exchange for the ability to fight. The fate of the world took priority over two (maybe three?) individual lives. Still, unbidden, their imaginations weave and cross. Neither are sure whose mind each image comes from: them, crooning over their sleeping baby in a cradle, her suckling it at her breast, him rocking it to sleep at night. Maybe it’d be a son who needed to be scolded not to pull hair, or a girl who needed to be told to stop fidgeting, maybe with her mother’s cornsilk hair or his father’s dark locks. Maybe it’d be fussy and attached, or easy-going and friendly. Kissing a squirming toddler’s head, rough housing (very gently and carefully) together, swinging arms and holding hands, ending the day reading aloud a picture book, watching their child’s delight, their baby’s soft plump wrists, perfect hands, and smile. Their child, lithe and strong, red-cheeked from the cold, running tall through the snowy streets of their home city in time for Christmas Break from school. They’d be a family, together they can take on this challenge and they can succeed together, they know it-  
  
“We really shouldn’t get attached-“ Sasha breaks out in bitter laughter. “It’s just funny because, they said that we’d never be able to, now it happened and we have to deal with it-“  
  
To her surprise, Aleksis smiles, and there’s the faintest glimmer of hope in his face. “I guess they were wrong.”

* * *

_April 15, 2019_

  
The pain is almost enough to bring her to her knees- _almost_. Sasha grits her teeth- she’s never let a weakness like pain control her before, and she’s not about to start now. But this time it’s different- she knows something’s wrong. It feels like something’s tearing inside of her, a menstrual cramp on steroids, and she feels a rush of something hot and wet in her pants. She smells blood.   
  
Panting, she leans on the guard railings as the pain grips her again.   
  
“Aleksis. Aleksis!” she shouts, not that she needed to- before the name leaves her mouth, there he is, heaving her up by the armpits and steadying here.  
  
Her face is white, so is his. Her red lips and his dark beard stand out almost grotesquely; they stare at each other in shock, just for a second before springing to action.  
  
“EMT,” Sasha begins, but Aleksis shakes his head- it takes time to get all the way from there to the hanger, time that could mean the difference between- what and what?  
  
Aleksis growls low in his throat and scoops her up, slinging her into his arms and taking off, sprinting faster than she’s ever seen him, hurtling in and out of the elevator. Her body seizes up again- a hot tide of blood seeps through; the wet, metallic smell is overpowering.   
  
She could worry. She could peer around anxiously, or try to ask questions, say something, anything. But instead, Sasha trusts Aleksis. She trusts, and she knows he’s doing what he can, so she buries her face into the warm fabric of his coat, the familiar texture and smells- _I leave this to you._  
  
More pain- sharp, digging into her guts. She steels herself, only vaguely hearing the voices of people beyond the pounding thump of her husband’s footsteps and heart beating.  
  
“Oi, Lieutenant-“  
  
“Out of the way, guys, run, guys, clear it- oh God he's coming this way-”  
  
“Stop- wait-“  
  
“What’s wrong-“  
  
“The Kaidanovskys-“  
  
She ignores them all. They both do. Her only other clue to the outside environment is the savory, sharp smell of the mess hall as they pass through with only minor screaming, and once, a pause and a sudden thump as Aleksis kicks something aside.  
  
Sasha doesn’t realize they’ve reached their destination until she hears him shouting at the nurses. Usually, she speaks for the both of them, but today, it’s him gesticulating furiously, barking low and anxiously in his throat, as her knuckles turn white from gripping the lapels of his coat.  
  
She is painfully conscious of the people around her: the doctors rushing over, the nurses giving her “comforting” looks, the curious glances of everyone else wondering why their Rangers are pale and soaked in sweat and blood.    
  
“Is she-“  
  
“What’s wrong?”  
  
“Did you hear?”  
  
“I never knew! She wasn’t showing!”  
  
“Will they be-“  
  
“Shut up!” she snarls, her voice cracked and grisly. Even at half its normal volume, the venom is enough to grind the conversations to a halt. Aleksis follows her line of vision and bristles. Instead of speaking, he lets out a roar, flattening the hair of the nearest speaker and sending them all tripping in their haste to flee.  
  
“Lieutenant, please, come with me,” the doctor says quickly, motioning with a clipboard. “Please, follow me.”   
  
They end up in a hospital bed, stainless steel and plastic. What looks like the entire medical staff is assembled- Rangers are a rather important aspect of the PPDC, after all.   
  
“Mr. Kaidanovsky, could I ask you to please leave the room? I’m afraid there’s not much space already-“  
  
They both stare at the offending doctor as if he’s suggested that they go for a swim right then.  
  
“No.”   
  
There’s an ultrasound involved. Aleksis helps her take off her coat. Another contraction wracks through her, but she doesn’t show it- not in front of other people, she won’t.   
  
When the transducer is low on her abdomen, she sees it- a hazy, grainy blob like a popped balloon. She’s no medical professional and the image is constantly shifting, buzzing, warping, but it’s clear even to her that it’s not normal.    
  
“No heartbeat,” the technician announces, and the assembled doctors confirm it.  
  
There it is, on the screen. A blurry gray, bean-like shape, the barest indentation to separate the head from the body, two legs curled up- it’s deformed from the normal position of a viable fetus, but there it is, it’s their baby and it doesn’t have a heartbeat.   
  
Somehow, seeing the dead fetus makes everything all the more real and surreal at the same time. She turns to look at her husband; he’s staring wordlessly at the screen, his mouth gaping like a gash in his beard, his brown eyes wide and disbelieving. The flicker from the computer monitor highlights every wrinkle and pore, aging him ten years. In a movement belonging to tectonic plates, Aleksis turns his head towards hers. Their combined pain is like a tidal wave, and before she knows it, he’s wrapped himself around her, burying his head in the crook of her neck, hot tears soaking into her collarbone, beard and moustache prickling her bare skin. Sasha reaches up to bring his head to rest on her breast and raises her arms around him, fiercely, protectively.  
  
She glares at the medical team until they get the message and leave.   
  


* * *

  
“From here it’ll take about a day. I’m sorry, we have to keep you here- just in case.” The nurse is a woman neither young nor old, freckled and dark-haired. Alma, that was her name. “We’ll come in to change the lining… Just stay relaxed, it’s going to be okay.”  
  
“Yes,” Sasha says curtly. She knows she shouldn’t take it out on Alma, but she doesn’t have the energy to do otherwise.  
  
“Let me know if you need anything? Does it hurt?”   
  
Sasha turns down the painkillers but accepts a hot compress for her back. Alma brings her the hot water bottle and leaves.  
  
She’s helpless. She can’t do anything but stare numbly as the blood keeps flowing in spurts. There are nurses, doctors buzzing around, asking her questions; she gives one-word answers, barely paying attention. She looks at her husband as if shell-shocked; his expression mirrors hers. As if in response to their fears, their uncertainty, their baby is dead.   
  
More blood. It’s amazing how much blood it is. The nurses keep coming by to change the cotton liners on the bed, and she can’t look them in the eye. Sometimes a fleshy chunk is expelled- that too is whisked away by whoever is on duty, until Aleksis, tired of the nurses treading in and out, seizes the cleaning supplies and warns them to stay out. He rolls up each sheet into the biowaste container with care, and when he puts a new one under her, he smoothes the edges down as if making a bed.  
  
They’re supposed to be tough. They’re supposed to be powerful, bold, invincible, aggressive. They’re not supposed to be sitting there in the medical bay, watching helplessly as more and more blood gushes out from between her legs.   
  
Aleksis only disengages himself to bring her water, and then as fast as he can, he’s back, kneeling beside the bed, his bare arms around her since his coat has long since gone to the laundry. It’s for both their sakes, and Sasha returns in kind, when she’s not curled up and gritting her teeth in pain.  
  
By nine in the evening, she’s bitten a hole in her lip and her body feels like it’s tearing itself apart from the inside. It’s only when they’re alone and the footsteps of the attending nurse have faded down the hallway, that she lets herself scream, and he screams along with her, for the both of them and for their baby.  

* * *

 

_April 16, 2019_

  
It’s the next morning and it’s over.   
  
“You may continue to experience spotting for up to a week, but other than that, we’re giving you the all-clear,” Alma says, rolling the computer out of the room. “But I’ve gone ahead and scheduled you an follow-up appointment a week from now. Meanwhile, do you have any questions?”  
  
“No.”  
  
Alma leaves.  
  
Secured in the finality of it all, Sasha sighs and plays with Aleksis’s ring, turning the metal loop around his finger.   
  
“Look on the bright side Aleksis, we found a way around the whole situation,” Sasha says dully.  “Saved us a lot of trouble, you know, look, free abortion-“  
  
“Sasha, Sasha,” Aleksis exclaims softly. “No, wife, stop.” His hand turns over and grips hers. “Sasha, it’s okay. Who are you showing off to?” His voice is barely audible. “Not to me. What you feel I feel too and I know.”  
  
“Myself, then,” she says harshly.   
  
Aleksis clasps his fists to his forehead and lets out a guttural moan, his version of a sob. Immediately regretting her harsh reflection, she grabs his wrist and drags him closer to her. Sasha wraps her arms around his chest, pulling him in, humming quietly, trying to soothe him.  
  
“I’m sorry,” she breathes quietly, nuzzling the side of his head.   
  
He moves over to sit on her bed, picking her up so that he’s cradling her again. She feels a surge of warmth, nostalgic somehow, trails her lips down the side of his neck. He chuckles softly, low in his chest, and it rumbles, vibrating through the bed frame.  
  
“I’m sorry.” Alma’s at the doorway again.  
  
“Yes?”  
  
The expression on the other woman’s face means that she’s been charged with an unpleasant task. “It’s just that no one knew, that’s all. This is sort of… A surprise, so we alerted the headquarters in Hong Kong just for protocol and, completely optional, not mandatory at all, but you do understand that from a medical standpoint, this is really an unexpected occurrence. We wanted to just do a few tests on you and your husband to see how you two were able to-“  
  
“No tests. Get out,” Aleksis barks before Sasha has the chance to throw the nightstand at the nurse.   
  
“I’m sorry,” Alma says, and she sounds like she truly does mean it. “Look, I understand,” she adds, more quietly. “I have to ask you because I am told to-“  
  
“I know. Go,” Aleksis repeats, his teeth barely parting when he speaks.  
  
“The General is here to see you, by the way. He says, ‘at your leisure.’”  
  
“Now is good.”  
  
“Okay, thank you. I’ll inform him. …I’m really sorry about your…” Alma leaves before she finishes her sentence.   
  
“The General,” Aleksis states flatly.  
  
“Brace yourself,” Sasha says humorlessly, reaching up to pat down Aleksis’s disheveled hair. She reaches into the pocket of her coat, hanging on the bedstand, and pulls out her lipstick. When her lips are striking red, she can take anything hell vomits up.  
  
Suddenly, as if he had hurried in from the reception desk, their commanding officer’s frame appears in the doorway, and they both try to jump to attention, only Sasha stumbles and has to grab onto Aleksis’s shoulder for support.  
  
“At ease- please, at ease!” To her surprise, General Voroshilov is not about to strangle them for not revealing that she was pregnant. In fact, he appears rather anxious, as if he hasn’t slept all night. His tie and shirt are wrinkled, and there’s a scrape on his hand as if he had thumped his fist on a table too hard. “Lieutenants, I…” General Voroshilov coughs and reaches a hand out, as if to pat Sasha’s shoulder, but thinks about it and puts his hand on Aleksis’s instead. “Well, I’m sorry to hear. I know it’s a loss, but I guess some things weren’t… I wish you a speedy recovery,” he says to both of them. “Of course, no stress, take it easy, but…” The general doesn’t need to say it aloud. No need to stress, but please recover fast because the next Kaiju attack could be at any time and we really do need everyone ready to fight…  
  
 Sasha hopes it comes soon. “Don’t worry,” she says curtly, and tries to stand up taller. Pain flares in her abdomen, but she straightens up anyways, wobbling only slightly. “We’re fine.”  
  
“Sit down, lieutenant,” he barks. "I want you to remember that you can find support here. The psych department has open time slots, and I suggest that you take advantage of them.”  
  
Sasha wants to respond with a cynical ‘why?’ but he is their commanding officer. “I see.”  
  
“Thank you, lieutenants,” he says crisply, looking uncomfortable in the room, strange for a man known for his iron dignity. “If there are any... Changes or events in the future, please inform me.”  
  
That’s a gentle reprimand and they all know it. “Yes, sir.”  
  
“I hope to see you at the meeting this Friday, but please do not push yourselves. I will take my leave now, thank you.”  
  
Sasha and Aleksis salute the general, and he leaves through the door.  
  
There’s a silence. There aren’t any windows in the medical bay, but the vent is whistling from its place in the wall, the only movement in the room for a while.   
  
“I feel stupid for thinking we were going to have a baby together,” Aleksis admits, voicing their shared guilt.   
  
“Me too.” Thousands of people had already died, and everyday more were dying- from Kaiju, and from man. Why was she crying over one baby, much less one that didn’t even actually exist yet?    
  
Still, it was their baby, and now it’s gone. They had thought that maybe, just maybe, there would be possibilities. Turns out, there wouldn’t be.    
  
“For a while I thought…”  
  
Sasha reaches for the rings on the nightstand. One by one, she slides them back on her fingers and flexes them, feeling the familiar clink of metal on metal. “I guess we were wrong,” she says.  
  


* * *

  
 _November 25, 2024_  
  
It’s official. Vladivostok Shatterdome is closing down, and slowly, the Jaeger program is winding down the same way.  
  
But it’s not over yet. No, far from it, if that man Stacker Pentecost will have anything to do with it. He’s going to fight, so Sasha and Aleksis are going to go join him. They will fight too, fight instead of sitting behind a wall and hoping with eyes squeezed shut, like children in the dark.   
  
It hangs unsaid in the air: they won’t be coming back. But that’s something they’ve known for a long time, and peering over the end of the world, that’s the way to go, together.  
  
They’re not going alone, though. Cherno Alpha is traveling on ahead of them, aboard an aircraft carrier, hugging the coastline all the way to Hong Kong. Aleksis counts down the hours until the Jaeger will reach her new home. It’s on the back of his mind, worrying over any possible scenario that could happen, as if it were a child traveling alone instead of a massive weapon with a military escort.   
  
“Aleksis, are you done packing?” Sasha appears in the doorway of their room, crates piled in her arms.  
  
“I’ve been done since morning.”  
  
She gives him half a smile and continues down the hallway, to load the last of her possessions into the plane.   
  
They don’t have much to pack. Their time as Jaeger pilots left very little time to accumulate anything beyond everyday supplies. Aside from their stereo and CDs, everything fits in one box. Any sentimental keepsakes, such as the housewarming wedding presents from well-meaning guests from almost a decade ago, have long been shipped away to be stored in Moscow.    
  
He takes a deep breath, looking around the room that had been their home for about a decade. Despite being stripped of its decorations, its posters, knickknacks, empty alcohol containers, and any sign that the Kaidonovskys had ever lived there, it’s still a familiar place for him, and Aleksis thinks he might just miss it once in a while, just out of nostalgia. It’s all gray cement and navy carpet now, and could be anyone’s barrack anywhere in the world. Devoid of identity, like a shatterdome without Jaegers.   
  
That’s fine. The world changes, and they just go along for the ride. Nothing ever stays for him, except for Sasha and fighting. As long as he can fight, he can live, and as long as he has Sasha, he can fight. She is earth. She is home.  
  
He spies a flash of muted color near a standard-issue dresser, and bends down to pick it up. It’s just an old magazine that fell behind the cabinet, and judging from its dusty, webby cover, a long time ago. Absentmindedly, Aleksis flips to a dog-eared section.  
  
Dewy-eyed babies stare out of him, from inside playpens and cribs and booster seats and pastel-colored pillows. Only the best for your child, the page declares. Your most precious deserves it- you owe it to them!  
  
He opens the window and hurls the magazine out as far as he can. He spins around, looking for something, anything to smash, but they’ve already cleared out everything except for the furniture, so he seizes one of the army-issued desk chairs and-  
  
“Aleksis?” His wife’s voice comes from the doorway. Sasha looks at him quizzically, wondering what he’s doing with the chair.   
  
He slowly puts it down, his heart rate going back to normal.   
  
“Come here, you big lug,” she says gruffly, putting down her duffel and holding her arms out. He eagerly embraces her, feeling her warm, familiar form.  
  
“Hong Kong. We were there before,” he murmurs softly.  
  
“Yeah. Crimson Typhoon’s base. The triplets from our class, remember?”   
  
“Are you ready?”  
  
“Of course. Are you?”  
  
“If you are, I am too.”   
  
They spend a few minutes in each other’s arms before Sasha backs away and picks her bag up again. “This isn’t easy for anyone but the UN,” she says bitterly, and he kisses the top of her head soothingly.  
  
Forward is the only direction, and forward they’ll go. There’s no point in looking to the past when they’re fighting for the future.   
  


* * *

_December 24, 2024_

  
The Hong Kong Shatterdome usually has food from their different countries, but for some reason, today there is only Chinese food, the local cuisine. Buns, eggs, all sorts of stir-fry- oh God are those some kind of bird feet? The chicken claws are proving the most popular for some reason she can’t fathom- there’s only one left, and the Wei Tang triplets are all barreling towards it, tongs at the ready, fiercely glaring at each other. For all their pomp and show they’ll end up sharing it anyways, she knows. The Russian wrinkles her nose and chooses the most palatable option, some kind of cold noodles in sesame oil.   
  
There’s an empty seat for her next to her husband, but Sasha doesn’t feel like taking her place there. Instead, she slides her tray along the table and drops her body soundly in his lap, wrapping her legs around his waist and leaning in to run one hand down his cheek while the other slowly slides down his back. It’s a familiar position for the both of them, and Aleksis rumbles low in his throat in response.   
  
“The Marshall’s big project,” she muses. “A month ago it would have been unthinkable…”  
  
“I saw the preliminary data from the Crazy Room. Their so-called ‘parabola.’ If the Kaiju are only going to get worse,” Aleksis rumbles through a mouthful of rice, “We have to seal the breach now. Now! What is the Marshall waiting for?”  
  
There’s a commotion from the food serving area. One of the triplets, probably Hu but who the hell can tell anyways, has reached the chicken foot first, but the other two aren’t giving in so easily. Their carefully-honed martial arts skills are being utilized to poke serving tongs at each other.  
  
Sasha shrugs. “Fourth Jaeger. Gipsy Danger. He’s looking for pilots for it still.” She absentmindedly starts eating the noodles, winding them around her fork like spaghetti. To her surprise, it’s crunchy, like seaweed almost, and quite good.   
  
“So you like the jellyfish, my wife?” her husband asks, his eyes crinkling at the corner.  
  
“I- What?”   
  
“Jellyfish. I was listening to the cafeteria workers. It’s jellyfish.”  
  
Sasha snorts, gnashing her teeth angrily.  “Fuck,” she sighs, pushing her plate away, appetite lost. “Those Chinese, they eat everything and then try to make us eat it too?”   
  
Aleksis only laughs, quiet and low in his throat, audible to only her. “So we’re waiting for the fourth pilot pair.”   
  
“Taking a hell of a long time, what are we doing here sitting around with the breach active?” she complains.   
  
 Before Aleksis can respond, there’s a sudden rumble of wheels. “Coming through, coming through,” a self-important voice snaps- it’s those German scientists, the duo making up the entire Kaiju Research Division, or as he prefers to call it, the Crazy Room. One is pompously clearing the way as he walks with a cane, waving aside people as his colleague pushes a filing cabinet, his face oddly guilty.  
  
When the pair passes by the Cherno Alpha table, Sasha shields their food from the vicinity of Thing One and Thing Two, fearing that whatever’s inside may have come from a Kaiju. The Germans continue on like a very small parade float, before their exit route is cut off by a short, angry Indian woman. Sasha recognizes her: Dr. Sidhu, a primary practioner from the medical department. “Hold it right there!” the doctor bellows. “This is theft! Illegal, punishable theft! I’ll report the both of you for breach of ethics!” the doctor threatens, holding out her hand threateningly. “Stealing confidential medical files!”   
  
“Medical files? No, no, these are just-“ Very slowly, the scientist in the dark blue coat turns to his coworker. There is a silence, but his rage crackles in the air like an old lady hearing a very nasty rumor about herself.  “Newton Geiszler, you said you only were taking-“  
  
“I know what I said but-“   
  
“I truly cannot believe that you lied to me and said that there were open-access files-“  
  
“I did not lie, a lot of these papers do happen to be open-access, just that a few-“  
  
“And you just had to take the entire cabinet, huh? You were planning this from the start!” he accuses.   
  
Cornered, Newton rolls up his sleeves angrily. “Just because someone is willing to let- let- bureaucracy and papers and tape- and- things like legality get in the way of scientific exploration-“  
  
“It is called being a mature adult researcher who-“  
  
“No, it’s not-“  
  
“You lied to me! You lied!” Dr. Gottlieb barks.   
  
“What? You’re angry about me lying to you? Well, in that case I’ll be perfectly honest right now and tell you that I am still very angry that you poured bleach all over my skin mite samples!”  
  
“That was months ago! If we’re going to talk about things that happened months ago that don’t even matter in the slightest anymore, oh, then in that case do you know how expensive baby carrots are? And do you know how I felt when I came back to the lab and all of my baby carrots were gone? Gone? And there you were, eating a carrot salad and-“  
  
“Oh, be quiet the both of you, just give me my cabinet back,” Dr. Sidhu snaps, grabbing the handle. Newton jerks the cart away, and one drawer spills open, unloading its contents onto the floor. “Look what you did!” she snarls, trying to pick up the papers fluttering about around her.  The white-coated doctor makes another grab for the cart, but Newton is quicker. Startled by the sudden movement, he rushes forward, taking the cart with him, racing towards the door. For a moment, the doctor and the remaining scientist freeze, staring at each other, and then they give each other commiserating, professional nods. The doctor springs after the fleeing researcher, with the man with a cane in surprisingly fast pursuit.  
  
There’s a short silence in the mess hall before the noise gradually rises back to normal levels. From the next table over, one of the Striker Eureka pilots, the youngest one from Australia, gives a long, exasperated whistle. It’s. “Just another reason why I stay clear of the science branches,” he announces to no one in particular, bending over to pick up one of the fallen files. He’s rough-looking boy, the kind who never sits still and always has to have something to do, someone to show up. Sasha discreetly turns her head to observe him. So far, he’s not someone she wants to get to know better, but from what she’s heard, he can hold his own in his fancy Jaeger. He can get the job done, and that’s all she needs to know. “Someone’s medical history,” the Australian observes, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Oi, which one of us has- God no, irregular periods, that’s just disgusting now, at least we know it’s only the women-“  
  
“He is so loud,” she mutters to Aleksis, who nods and reaches over to turn the speakers louder, trying to drown out the obnoxious young man. It doesn’t work- even with maximum volume setting the silverware shivering and the Wei triplets scowling, the Australian’s voice carries over.   
  
“-Calcium levels, normal, low Vitamin D levels- well, who had a miscarriage in 2019? Bummer. Unviable three-month-old fetus -“  
  
The room suddenly goes cold, and her gut whirls, twisting around inside of her, clenching tight as an angry fist. Something snaps inside of her, and she feels everything from years ago- the bleeding, the feeling of loss, emptiness, of possibilities suddenly gone. It all comes welling up, and all of a sudden she realizes that she and her husband are standing up, trays clattering on the floor. The Australian boy is silent- there’s a ring of people staring at the both of them.    
  
She should walk out cool. So no one would know that it was their baby, their fault, their loss.  They should just stroll out casually, like nothing happened. Her heart is stopped, her chest is ice, and the jellyfish is rising in her throat.   
  
Their child. Hers and Aleksis’s. One moment here, with them, ready to be held and protected. Their child, possibly with Aleksis’s eyes, possibly hers, maybe his broad shoulders or her sloping ones- the next moment just gone, and there’d never be that child who maybe looked like him or her or a combination of both, just gone like that- and that little Australian faggot brat shit-eating dog thought he had the right to mention it-  
  
Before she can do anything, there’s a roar of fury, and a rush of blonde and black like a tornado. Aleksis is like his Jaeger- strong, made to crush, but slow, even when so angry. The Australian is as nimble as a jackrabbit though, and the moment he sees a the Russian man charging at him from the other table, he jumps away, racing to some crates on a nearby wall, his sneakers screeching as he scrambles for purchase, climbing up to the top. He thinks fast and decisively- she has to give that to him, but a splintering crash takes her attention.  
  
Unable to follow the limber young man up his stack of crates, Aleksis has seized the closest box and hurled upwards to where it smashed against the wall, splintering and sending packets of dried noodles (hopefully they were noodles) everywhere. His roar is continuous, a powerful baritone scream, echoing around the air of the whole mess hall. Only she can hear the undertone, the cry of a wounded animal.   
  
The Wei Tang triplets look unsure if they should intervene or start rooting for someone.  
  
More boxes smash against the walls. Crates that take three men to carry are hurled as if they were shoeboxes, and Sasha thinks of how she burned every book with a smiling baby on the cover. All of a sudden she wants to go back- back to the soft, dusty gray of 4am, back to their room to be alone with Aleksis. She doesn’t care what everyone else is thinking, what they may or may not figure out about them, or even what a scene Aleksis is making.   
  
Another crate smashes. Bags of dried seaweed fly everywhere. “Aleksis,” she calls, motioning with her hand. “Husband… Let’s go,” she barks sharply, bending down to pick up the discarded medical record. Her red-painted mouth opens at the side, and she gives the Australian boy a dismissive look, as if he were barely worth noticing, despite the memories he’s bought up. Sasha waits for her husband to turn around and return to her side, a hulking shape against hers. Together, heads held high, they walk out of the hall, faces set and cold, even to their own crew.   
  
It’s only when they’re in the hallway outside their shared room that she punches the wall so hard her knuckles bleed. He lets her, knowing that it’s for the best, and strokes her shoulders, murmuring quietly in her ear, until finally, she takes his hand and tugs him into their room.   
  


* * *

  
  
There’s a knock at the door.  
  
When he answers it, for once, Aleksis is glad of his sheer bulk. Doorways usually embarrass him when he has to duck underneath them, but today he is glad that his body blocks the entire entrance, letting the visitor see nothing beyond his coat.    
  
It’s the boy, the other Jaeger pilot from earlier, without his trademark bulldog. He’s wearing old gym clothes, and he’s drenched in sweat, as if he just left the training area and had decided right then to come to their doorstep. His hands are in his pockets- he’s looking somewhere near chest-level, contrite beneath a nonchalant surface.  
  
Aleksis doesn’t care how sorry the Australian is. This boy, without even knowing it, had hurt him, bringing up their loss, and worse, he had hurt Sasha. He reminded him of how he failed somehow, in some way he didn’t know, the sheer impotence of simply not being able to do a thing about it. Aleksis doesn’t care if the younger man feels bad. He doesn’t care if Chuck feels guilty about the medical record incident. His anger barely in check, the Russian says coldly, “Go away.”  
  
“Um. Hi. Is your wife here?”  
  
It’s a meaningless question- wherever Aleksis is, Sasha is, and vice versa. Of course Sasha is here. “No. She is not here. Go away.” His words are hardly intelligible under the grumble of barely-repressed anger and heavy accent, but the meaning is clear.  
  
Of course Chuck knows he’s lying. So he raises his voice slightly to carry into the room. “Hey, I didn’t know it was her record and I didn’t know it was such a big deal.”  
  
Aleksis’s English isn’t as good as his wife’s. He shakes his head like a bull about to charge and growls, “Go away. I will kill you.”  
  
The Australian raises his hands as if to show that he’s come unarmed. “Hey, chill, man. No hard feelings, okay? I just-“  
  
Sasha’s voice rings out from inside the room. “Let him in, darling. It’s all right.” In English, she adds sharply, “Come in.”   
  
Despite his surprised expression, Aleksis nods and steps aside, rolling his fingers to feel the familiar clinking of his rings. “I still will kill you,” he warns, but the younger man just shrugs.   
  
When Aleksis follows the Australian in, Sasha isn’t curled up in the bed with her face buried in the pillows, demanding that her husband hold her even tighter, despite the fact he’s near crushing her, or throwing things, smashing anything she can get her hands on. Instead, she’s reclining on the loveseat, leafing through today’s newspaper, her boots still on.  
  
Her makeup is perfect. Not a smudge out of place.  
  
“We have one hour of rest before we report back to the Cherno Alpha. Stop wasting my time and say something,” she says brusquely, not even bothering to look up at him.  
  
The boy looks surprised at the curt greeting. “Hey. I just wanted to check up on you.”  
  
“And why the fuck would you want to do that.”  
  
“Well, you seemed upset at breakfast. I really didn’t know it was your file.”  
  
“Upset? You think you hurt me some way?” she snorts derisively.   
  
“Well- you looked unhappy and your husband-“  
  
“Then you’re a dumb fuck. We were angry because is embarrassing when boy announce your irregular periods aloud to whole room. Disrespect, no?”  
  
His shoulders fall back into place, as if a tension is gone. “Oh, disrespect? That’s all? I thought that you were upset over the miscarriage thing.” He doesn’t notice that both his hosts are clenching their teeth at the word. “Well, I didn’t mean any disrespect. I already said I didn’t know it was your file or anything, no hard feelings, kay?”   
  
There is a long silence. The visitor is starting to fidget, as if wondering if he said the wrong thing. But Sasha only flicks her eyes upwards at her guest, tilting an eyebrow up. “I understand it’s different here, but where we come from, disrespect means we kills you. But I am curious. What would you have done if Aleksis had climbed the boxes?”  
  
“I don’t like to think of near-death situations. I get them enough every time I get in the cockpit,” he laughs, and she returns his grin for just a second. It’s as close as he’ll ever get to self-deprecating humor.   
  
“Smart. Now shoo. Go away, we are trying to enjoy our break.”   
  
The Australian man looks relieved when he leaves. Sasha puts the papers down and sighs, and Aleksis comes to sit next to her on the couch. He rubs her hand in his, looking at her gently. Sasha laughs.  
  
They’ll keep fighting. It’s how they do things, and how they’ll continue on. It’s what they’ve always done, and what they’ll do now.   
  


* * *

 

_January 8, 2025_

The next January, the Kaidanovskys die.

They go down fighting tooth and nail, with every last iota of strength, even as they are battered, crushed, screaming, but they still die- not by drowning, not by crushing, but by a sudden blaze of nuclear fission and fusion, from their own beloved Cherno Alpha.

It’s the end of the world. Humanity is five heroes down, and that much closer to descent into darkness.

They’re completely submerged in water, but Sasha and Aleksis turn to look at each other, stretching their arms out- their fingertips don’t even brush and they can’t see each other but it’s okay because they’re here, they’re together in their minds, more intimate, closer than any two normal people could ever be.

The water reaches the reactor, and everything is seared white.

Maybe it’s the Drift, from the machine. Maybe it’s a byproduct of the neural pathways so etched into the equipment, the product of ten years of their minds, lives, hopes, fears, dreams, secrets, love poured through the Cherno Alpha, but they see, for the briefest moments before their atoms are scattered across the ocean, they both see him and her, on their way to Christmas Mass. They’re laughing, Sasha’s hair is in a bun rather than its usual tight braids, Aleksis holds her hand tightly even through his gloves, and their daughter smiles, pink-cheeked and her pearly teeth flashing as she giggles, as if saying, _look, I’m here, I always was._

 

 


End file.
